Pages

Friday, February 27, 2015

In Buddhism, everything is seen from
three points of view; that of substance, of aspect, and of function. (These
three points of view parallel Buddha, Dharma, and Sangha, as well as the
philosophical, practical, and historical approaches to these Treasures.) For
instance, I hold a pencil. The substance of this pencil is graphite and wood,
its aspect is long and slender, somewhat like a chopstick in a Chinese
restaurant. The function of this pencil is that of writing something on paper.
Everything in this world – the Buddha included – can be seen from these three
points of view.

The universe may also be seen from the
standpoint of another threefold classification: the three so-called “worlds” of
desire, the material, and the nonmaterial. “God,” “Brahma,” or “Allah” all
belong to the world of desire, since they are nothing but the postulation of
human desire.

These three worlds constitute the
substance of the universe. Just as there is nothing to be called the substance
of this pencil except graphite and wood, so there is nothing in this universe
apart from these worlds.

Sometimes we include in the substance
of the universe something that is not classifiable in terms of these three
worlds – something like the “soul,” for example. The way this comes about is
that we cling to a certain aspect of something and, in order to explain it,
postulate some kind of substance existing outside of that aspect which, we
presume, makes,rules, and governs it.
In this way we arrive at the idea that there is such a thing as a soul, which
is somehow responsible for mental and physical processes. Nonsense! We’ve never
had such a thing, nor will we ever have such a thing!

Our body is nothing but a part of the material
world, and our mind is nothing but a group of desires, a power of grasping in
the world of desire. So-called “desire” is a function of the nonmaterial world.
Because the material world is nothing but another form of the nonmaterial – a fact
proven by modern science, which has shown that groups of matter are merely
different groups of electrons, these in turn being nothing but a certain energy
form – our mind and body are not two different things, but just one substance
with two aspects. Moreover, the same relation which obtains between your mind
and your body obtains between your body and the whole universe – and between
your mind and the minds of all sentient beings. So you see, the worlds of
desire, of the material, and of the nonmaterial are one.

This sameness is absolute and
infinite. To avoid the possibility of misunderstanding, however, we speak of
this sameness negatively, calling it “nothingness” or “nirvana.” If you are
enthusiastic about returning to your long-lost home, and if you strive in deep,
constant meditation, all of you will attain realization and acquire nirvana
without fail. For the Buddha said: “Nirvana is visible and present; inviting
all to come and see; leading to the goal; intelligible to the wise; each for
oneself.”

(The above is
extracted from a wonderful book called ‘Like a Dream, Like a Fantasy’ which contains
the teachings of Nyogen Senzaki, and is published by Wisdom Publications.)

Tuesday, February 17, 2015

Walking meditation is not so very well
known in the West, but is a common practice in the traditional forms of
Buddhism found in Asia, and is known as kinhin in Japanese and cankama
in Pali. In the forest tradition of Northeast Thailand many well-known monks,
such as the renowned meditation master Ajahn Mun, have used the latter method
to cultivate enlightening mind states. In Wat Pah Nanachat (the International
Forest Monastery) in Ubon Ratchathani, walking meditation is used by many of
the contemplatives, and is been promoted by its former abbot Ajahn Nyanadhammo
in the excellent pamphlet ‘Walking Meditation’ downloadable here. Here’s
an instructive extract from this short work:

“In this method, while walking place
all your attention at the soles of the feet, on the sensations and feelings as
they arise and pass away (this is assuming that you are walking bare footed, as
most monks do. Although light soled shoes can be worn if necessary.) As you
begin walking, the feeling will change. As the foot is lifted and comes down
again into contact with the path, a new feeling arises. Be aware of that sensation,
as it is felt through the sole of the foot. Again as the foot lifts, mentally note
the new feeling as it arises. When you lift each foot and place it down, know the
sensations felt. At each new step, certain new feelings are experienced and old
feelings cease. These should be known with mindfulness. With each step there is
a new feeling experienced – feeling arising, feeling passing away; feeling
arising, feeling passing away.”

Walking meditation is a useful
alternative (or complementary) technique with regards to sitting meditation,
the classical physical position for Buddhist meditative practice. In ‘Walking
Meditation,’ Ajahn Nyanadhammo states that many monks and nuns have realized
insight and enlightenment whilst practicing walking meditation. He also says
that in the Forest Monastic Tradition every part of life is an opportunity to
meditate, not only when doing sitting meditation. So, cankama can be used as an
integrated aspect of Buddhist practice, allowing the various processes of life
to be investigated and understood as impermanent, imperfect, and impersonal.

I personally find walking meditation
effective for establishing mindfulness in the mornings, and in his book
‘Mindfulness, Bliss and Beyond,’ Ajahn Brahm states that Buddha himself used
cankama early in the mornings (a lot earlier in the mornings than me!). He also
tells a story from his own life that illustrates the potential power of walking
meditation. Early in his monastic training, Ajahn Brahm was doing cankama and
was so absorbed in this practice that he lost track of time and missed the
beginning of an important ceremony. Another monk came to fetch him, but had
great difficulty arousing the young monk from the deep state of concentration (samadhi)
that he had developed, so much so that he took quite some time to come out of
the feeling of beauty and peace that had arisen during his walking. Ajahn Brahm
states the following in the same book:

“As your mindfulness increases, you
will know more and more of the sensations of walking. Then you find that
walking does have this sense of beauty and peace to it. Every step becomes a “beautiful
step.” And it can very easily absorb all your attention as you become
fascinated by just walking. You can receive a great deal of Samadhi through
walking meditation in this way. That Samadhi is experienced as peacefulness, a
sense of stillness, a sense of the mind being very comfortable and very happy
in its own corner.”

There are many variations of walking
meditation, but one simple method to begin with is the following:

Find a suitable place for cankama. This
can be outside, perhaps positioned between two trees as in the practice of
forest monks, or indoors, say in a corridor or longish room. I use the sitting
room in my house, which is about seventeen steps long – in the forest
tradition it’s often up to thirty paces long.

Do cankama barefooted if possible, as
this heightens the sensation of the feet touching the ground, which is
usually the main focus of attention.

Establish mindfulness prior to beginning
to walk. This can be done by holding one’s hands in anjali
(palm-to-palm, as in prayer) and reciting a brief Buddhist phrase, perhaps
remembering the Three Refuges of Buddha, Dharma and Sangha.

Holding one’s hands in front of one’s
self walk at a comfortable pace, neither too fast nor too slow, enabling
one to be mindful of each step.

Keep looking about a meter and a half in
front, avoiding looking at this and that.

Focus awareness on the feet, noting the
different sensations as each foot is placed on the ground and then rises
from it, much as one might focus on the breath.

When you reach the end of your meditation
path, turn around and stand still for a few moments, re-establishing
mindfulness before resuming walking.

To begin with, do cankama for about
fifteen minutes, longer if it’s comfortable. Eventually, half an hour to
an hour will become possible without losing mindfulness.

Using walking meditation this way, we
can lay the foundations of a steady and alert mind which can be of benefit away
from the meditation path. A sense of beauty and peace may arise that
accompanies every step that we take, making the simple experience of walking a deeply
pleasurable one. We may find that there is an increase in the general alertness
of our actions as well as with regards the feeling of walking itself. Then,
wherever we are, we will be walking with Buddha’s feet of wisdom.

The above post is
a revised version of a post that first appeared on this blog in September 2009.
A review of Ajahn Brahm’s great book ‘Mindfulness, Bliss and Beyond’ can be
read here.

Saturday, February 7, 2015

Beginning to notice the space around
people is a very different way of looking at somebody, isn't it? We look at the
space around them rather than looking at them. This is a way of beginning to
open oneself. When one has a spacious mind, then there is room for everything.
When one has a narrow mind, then there is only room for a few things; everything
has to be manipulated and controlled, so that you have only what you think is
right -- what you want is there -- and everything else has to be pushed out.
Now life on that level is always suppressed and constricted; it is always a
struggle -- there is always tension to keep everything in order all the time.
If you have got just a very narrow view of life, the disorder of life always
has to be ordered for you, so you are always busy, manipulating the mind,
pushing things out or holding on to things. This is the dukkhaof
ignorance, which comes from not understanding things.

Now the spacious mind has room for
everything. It is like the space in this room, which is never harmed by what
goes in and out of this room. In fact, we say 'the space in this room', but
actually the room is in the space; the building is in the space.
When the building has gone the space will still be here. So we can have a
perspective, we have the actual walls and the shape of the room, and the space.
Right now we can see the limit of this room, and the space of this room is
contained by the limits of this building.

Space is something that we tend not to
notice, because it doesn't grasp our attention, does it? It is not like a beautiful
flower something really beautiful, or something really horrible -- which pulls
your attention right to it. You can be completely mesmerised in an instant by
something exciting, fascinating, horrible or terrible; but you can't do that
with space, can you? To notice space you have to calm down -- you have to
contemplate it.

This is because spaciousness is not
extreme, it has no extreme qualities. It is just spacious, whereas flowers can
be extremely beautiful, with beautiful bright reds and oranges and purples,
beautiful shapes -- extremely beautiful shapes -- that are just so dazzling to
our minds. Our something else can be really ugly and disgusting.

But space is not dazzling, it is not
disgusting, and yet without space there would not be anything else; we couldn't
see. If you had just this room, and filled it up with things so it became
solid, or filled it up with cement -- a big cement block -- there'd be no space
left in this room. Then, of course, you couldn't have beautiful flowers or
anything else; it would just be a big block. It would be useless, wouldn't it?
So we need both; we need to appreciate the form and the space, because they are
the perfect couple, the true marriage, perfect harmony -- space and form. We
contemplate this, we reflect, and from this comes wisdom. We know how things
are, rather than always trying to create things the way we might want them to
be.

Now apply this to the mind. Use the
'I' consciousness to see space as an object to the 'I'. We can see that
mentally there are the thoughts, emotions -- the mental conditions -- that
arise and cease. Usually we are dazzled, repelled or just bound by the thoughts
and emotions; we go from one thing to another -- trying to get rid of them or
reacting, controlling and manipulating them. So we never have any perspective
in our lives, we just become obsessed with repression and indulgence; we are
caught in those two extremes.

With meditation we have the
opportunity to contemplate the mind. The silence of the mind is like the space
in the room; it is always there, but it is subtle. It doesn't stand out, it
doesn't grab your attention. It has no extreme quality which would stimulate
and grasp your attention, so you have to pay attention, you have to be
attentive. Now one can use the sound of silence (or the primordial sound, sound
of the mind, or whatever you want to call it) very skilfully, by bringing it
up, paying attention to it. By concentrating your attention on that for a
while, it becomes something that you can really begin to know. It is the mode
of knowing in which one can reflect. It's not a concentrated state you absorb
into, it's not a suppressive kind of concentration. The mind is concentrated in
a state of balance and openness, rather than absorbed into an object, so that
one can actually think and use that as a way of seeing things in perspective --
letting things go.

Now I really want you to investigate
this so that you begin to see how to let go of things rather than just have the
idea that you shouldlet go of things. You might come away from
this retreat with the idea that you should let go of things. Then, when you
can't let go of things, you'd start thinking, "I can't let go of
things," -- but that is another ego problem that you have created.
"Only others can let go, but I can't let go. I shouldlet go
-- Venerable Sumedho said everybody should let go." But that very simple
thing is another "I am", isn't it?

Now you can take that simple thing and
begin to notice, reflect and contemplate the space around those two words;
rather than looking for something else, you just sustain attention on the space
around those two words. It's like looking at the space in this room; you don't
go looking for the space, do you? 'Where is the space in this room?' thinking,
'I am looking for the space in this room, have you seen it?' What do you do?
You look at it; you are open to it because it is here all the time. It is not
anything you are going to find in the cupboard or in the next room or under the
floor. It is right here now -- so you open, you begin to notice.

(The above is an
extract from the talk ‘Noticing Space’ found in the book ‘The Mind and the Way.’
A review of this wonderful book by Ajahn Sumedho can be found here.)